


Hallelujah

by LovelyRisk



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Climbing Class, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Instability, Mentions other characters, Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Understanding, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyRisk/pseuds/LovelyRisk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At a young age, about three or four, Chris got his first pair of glasses. Despite his new-found sight he still didn’t see a lot of the things that he felt he should have. His mother would tell him fondly that it was because his head was in the clouds, with that whimsical look she always got in her eyes when she thought about those things relating to escape or wonderment. And while it was mostly true that Chris was often absent in the head, he didn’t see why this habit would be bad for him when it has been so helpful to him up until that point and beyond.</p><p>Or more accurately, everyone is sad and no one really knows how to deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to say much up here, mostly because I usually only have things to say after the fact. Consider this my way of practicing second person. Otherwise I don't have much of an idea of what I'm doing with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to clarify a few things about this.  
> 1\. I don't really write fanfiction. I'm more of a original works kinda person.  
> 2\. This isn't my first fanfiction but it is the first that I am trying to be serious about. Sadly that doesn't mean scheduled but its almost winter break so I'll try to update as much as possible without bombing everything else.  
> 3\. Feel free to give criticism and ask questions it helps nobody if any part of this is confusing- This applies to everything else I might write in the future!  
> 4\. If you have any ideas, write them in the comments. I've always kinda wanted to do a writing thing where the ideas were mostly supplied by the comments and such, even if I realize that could be crazy. Obviously not going to happen soon, but eventually that would be a fun thing to do.  
> 5\. As an extension if the idea is for something else feel free to pass it by me. I'm always looking for new things to write in the hopes that I will see improvement.  
> 6\. THANK YOU  
> -For reading  
> -For Kudos  
> -For comments  
> -For being trash just like me (Even if you're high class recycling and I'm not)

At a young age, about three or four, Chris got his first pair of glasses. Despite his newfound sight he still didn’t  _ see  _ a lot of the things he felt he should have. His mother would tell him fondly it was because his head was in the clouds, with a whimsical look she always got in her eyes when she thought about those things relating to escape or wonderment. And it was true- Chris was often absent in the head, though he didn’t see why this habit would be bad for him when it has been so helpful to him up until that point and beyond.

But as with everything else, his mother was completely right in the assumption that it might actually kill him if he couldn’t ever clear his head long enough to make sense of the world around him.

She was so right, in fact, that this problem would continue to plague Chris in a cloud of misunderstanding and confusion for the foreseeable future- if not, he supposed, for the rest of his life. Endlessly afraid, endlessly alone, endlessly “preferring it”  even when it felt he was falling apart. 

Josh Washington, being a good- and probably the only example of this whole “not noticing what's important” thing, seemed to be an equal source of unending, unsolvable, and otherwise  _ unneeded  _ confusion. As well as awful and attractive and completely arrogant.  

Josh didn’t seem to understand the reason why everyone was upset and Chris could guess why- it was their fault, after all. Not Chris’s fault specifically or even Josh’s fault, because they could have chosen not to drink, but they hadn’t and therefore the act of being passed out was likely inevitable.

But for everyone else? Well, Chris could see why Josh was a little upset.

Wasn't Josh just as bad? Hadn't  _ he _ caused pain? They all had scars and some bruises had only just faded.  Chris related to both of those, having fallen more than once. Not to mention the large but faint bruise on the left side of his face. 

“Hey Chris, can you come out here please?” Sam's voice sounded worried and in turn Chris could feel the recurring twitch in his left eye start up again. He had been standing in the Washington's living room staring at the pictures hung on the wall nearest the door, right above the large bay window Chris remembered to be a favorite place of Hannah's.  

Voices resonated louder and louder from the kitchen, angry and scared, and Chris found his shoulders felt weak and his fingers trembled. Pulling the left one into his coat he made his way to said kitchen, stopping at the doorway to survey the scene. 

He put on a brave face, pretending to have no knowledge of what they were talking about even though he had been thinking it over only moments ago. 

Mike's voice, might he add as it always did, rose above the others brave but empty. 

“I just don't see why he shouldn't pay for what he did. Any one of us could have died!" 

Chris's eyes met Sam's and she pointed upwards, which meant that Josh had already retreated to his room. Chris felt his lips wordlessly form the word  _ good.  _ She let her hand remain in the air, pointed towards the glass sliding door that led to the large, stone patio surrounding the decently sized pool they had spent many summers hanging around. He followed her outside, hand rested at her elbow. She turns then, a lopsided smile on her face. 

“Are you okay?” her voice lilts at the end, like she’s unsure whether or not she should be asking. “Who am I kidding? You probably feel,” she shakes her head, “awful.” 

“Certainly.”

“So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Josh, duh.”

“Besides the fact that he nearly got us all killed?”

“We both know that isn’t what bothers you about what happened up on the mountain.”

“Yes, but do we have to talk about it now? Our friends are about three seconds from clawing each other's eyes out.”

“That's mostly the girls,” she twirls her fingers in the air, “and really they’re all yelling in agreement. If you remember, we do that a lot.” 

“Yeah, I suppose we do.”

“So?”

“So what, Sam.” 

“I guess- I,” she lets the air escape her in a hiss, “Look. We both know that, currently, Josh is the one we should be most worried about, yeah?”

“Well, yeah, we left him there didn’t we?”

“See, exactly, you’re holding back- anyways what I’m trying to say is that the whole ‘Support Josh in his time of need’ thing is incredibly one sided,” Sam’s hand comes up to rest on his shoulder, “basically, he’s not the center of all of our worlds, no matter how much it feels like he is. Which means that you, Christopher, matter. We all matter. So when I see you blanking out it makes me worried.”

“I’m-”

“Just as worried as I am for Josh and all of our ‘other’ friends.”

“I get it, but I wasn’t left behind.”

“You were alone, weren’t you? When we were up there you went back. There were plenty of opportunities for you to die up there, all to find Josh.” 

“So doesn’t that make this his fault?”

“He didn’t know, Chris. None of us knew.”

“But we should have.”

“We couldn’t have.”

Chris lets Sam’s arms around him, while mentally he tried to slow down the race in his head, everything felt potent and cold. He lets out a breath, afraid of how wrecked his voice would be when he spoke. “It wasn’t just the wendigos.” 

“I know.” 

“Everything’s falling apart around me. I don’t sleep-” A loud sound interrupts Chris and he can’t help but feel grateful. He lets out a laugh and stares down at his feet. 

“I’m sure he didn’t hear all of that.” 

“Yeah, probably not.” 

“We should go back in, so they don’t- you know- claw each other's eyes out.” She makes a clawing motion with her hand before letting it rest in between Chris’s shoulder blades. 

“Yeah it’s probably best.” Chris looks up a moment, at the window that had closed, and curses quietly under his breath.  He puts on a tight-lipped smile and pulls his arm from between them to rest on Sam’s lower back. “Time to play with fire.” 

Entering was considerably harder than leaving, like walking closer to the warmth of the fire only to find yourself burnt instead of chasing the cold away. Though when his eyes finally managed to look up he could see that a few of their friends had left that fire to die down. Of their friends; Only Sam, Chris, Josh, and Ashley remained. And with Josh upstairs that left Ashley stood in the ashes of the argument, staring into space with an untouched mug of some new tea Sam had brought resting on the table in between her pale hands. 

“Hey Ash.” Sam says, offering a smile, before reaching over to remove the glass from her hand, placing it on the counter nearest the sink. Chris moves to sit on the stool near the end of the counter island, diagonal from where Ashley and Sam stood. They sat there for the next few moments, not really saying anything. 

Moments or minutes later Melinda Washington walks  into the kitchen arms filled with grocery bags. Chris moves automatically to help her with them and Sam stands just behind him with the same intent. When she finds her arms empty a sweet smile graces her face, albeit an entirely different version of the smiles Chris had seen on his friends mother before. Slipping her coat off of her shoulders and hanging it on the chair Chris was previously seated in she moves to loop an arm around his neck. Resting his head on her shoulder he reaches out with his arm to pull Ashley and Sam in, until they are all standing there- dejected but content. It wasn't uncommon nowadays, for a parent of their rag tag group- mostly Josh's mother- to concern themselves with their child's friends. Chris found it… nice, if not telling of his “closed-offedness” considering his own family, and tried not to squirm too much under the older woman's arm. 

With one last pat on the back Josh’s mother pulls back and smiles, though this time considerably more unsettled. “Any of you need a ride home?” 

“No, I drove Chris here, might as well take them both home.”

“Well, drive safely, ok? The roads are starting to frost over.” 

“We will, ma’am” Sam places a hand on each of her friend's shoulders and leads them outside towards her car. 

Chris manages to block out the rest of the ride home by staring out the front window at the white stripes down the center of the road. They must have talked about something, as he couldn’t imagine Sam leaving them in silence, but if they had attempted to reach him he didn’t know. 

They drop off Ashley first, at her parents house. Chris says goodbye, but not much else, and he can’t even manage to watch her go, more focused on how the trees around her home seemed to lean on it, as if they were trying to suffocate the home and all of its inhabitants.

When they pull up to his apartment, where he currently lived by himself, Sam cuts the engine and turns toward him. “Are you sure? If you need any help-”

“Thank you.” Sam nods and watches him exit the car, waiting until he’s entered the building before pulling her car away from the lot and driving towards home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I rewrote it!  
> This feels much better and I hope it is much better than before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for panic attack near the end. I'm sorry if it isn't explained the best it could be, I've had a couple of panic attacks myself but they aren't frequent so I had to look up how to write it. Don't know how well I did.

It seemed more and more often-after the first and second year they spent at the lodge- that Chris would take time off from schooling or work and think it all through, over and over. Every little thing that happened, whether or not he was involved, and once he had done so multiple times, he would write it all down in whatever journal or book he could find. Sooner rather than later he found  most of his shelves were filled with journals rather than textbooks and any book held there was usually undistinguishable. It wasn’t even relaxing for him, he just did it, and it ended up to be what he did for every  _ other  _ problem he might have had, too. Schoolwork, someone talking to him, a teacher looking at him weird when his eyes had- apparently- rolled back into his skull. (He had been sleeping, but the professor didn’t need to know.)  

It wasn’t like his habit was secret or anything, the journals were right there!. Josh had probably looked at the journals once when he was over- they didn’t necessarily choose to be here in his small, cramped home often, they were still there long enough for him to know. He just hadn’t said anything about it. Which was good, because Chris knew he knew, and if he hadn’t said anything now, he wouldn’t, which means it was an okay habit to have.. He has to know by now how freaky Chris is anyways, it’s just how friendship worked- at least he thought it worked that way. 

And it wasn’t that big of a deal anyways, a few dollars here and there for the journals and pens. He could have been studying for all they knew. Though, he supposed if he had to blame it on studying it was bound to be a bad thing. But he hadn’t said anything, so there was nothing  _ wrong. _

 

Chris currently found himself sitting at his desk, a journal opened up to a half filled page- likely notes for a class he didn't pay attention in. He should have been more excited to get a call from his friend, but he wasn’t. Ever since the lodge he had been apprehensive of one of his friends calling to ask for something from him, or worse, try and comfort him. Josh called often, though Chris suspected he wouldn’t get used to it. He especially wasn’t ready to talk about what he might have heard earlier, when he was chatting with Sam. He put on a brave face and promptly got over it.

“Hey Cochise.”  Chris can’t help but smile slightly at the sound of his voice, however brief it was. 

“Uh, H-hey.” Chris stutters out, a bubbly, heavy feeling in his chest.

Josh laughs and it's comforting in the way it proves he’s alright, for now. The sound even makes Chris feel lighter, somehow relieving the tension he might have felt only seconds before. 

“You already said that.”

“Yeah, I tend to do that alot.”

“It’s snowing outside,” he pauses and lets out a small, exasperated chuckle that sends sparks through Chris’s nerves, “-uh, yeah great. Damn it.”

“Hey, you ok, bro?”

“Yeah. I just-” 

“Look, if you can’t get it out, it’s not coming out,” Chris can practically hear Josh’s mind turn his words against him, “don’t you even dare, dude.” They both burst into hushed chuckles, ending in grins pulled tight at the edges of their mouths. Silence captures the line for a moment and all both of them can hear is the breath of the other, in and out. 

“Yeah, sorry about- I just- needed to tell you something but now that I think about it-”

“You feel like you’re going to throw up?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s surprisingly common. Whenever you need to talk, we can talk.”

“Yeah, like you talk to me about your problems?” Chris freezes up, stiff and surprised, his knuckles white, fist pressed into his thigh to keep the room from spinning out of control.

“Hey, Cochise that was out of line-”

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs to talk when you were the one who was left behind.”  _ Click.  _

Chris feels numb, empty, and he barely recognizes his phone falling from his hand onto his desk before he’s turned to lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His breath feels short and constricted, his chest heavy, and eyes blurry even behind his glasses. He reaches, fumbling at his face to take them off, letting them fall onto the bed beside him before curling up and returning to rub his eyes. It felt like fire, he felt suffocated, he couldn’t think of anything. His ears strain to pick up anything but everything sounds isolated, water lapping at the shore, being stranded.  _ Think of the water.  _ Water like fire embracing snow, water like the freeing sound of the helicopter to come and save them all.  The thought is an anchor, an olive branch, and he reaches out to grab it. Chris wasn’t unfamiliar with these feelings of desperation. They often came to him at night, or after someone called, it took awhile for the feelings to disappear, for the panic to fade, but when it did he was drained enough, all he could do was strip into his boxers and smother himself in his bed. 

He’s awoken way too soon by the sound of knocking, and he knows it’s Josh, but he can’t seem to move.  _ He has a key, don’t bother.  _ Sometimes Chris liked his inner voice. Shutting his eyes tight he waits for the sound of the door unlatching, the sound of footsteps, the feeling of the bed dipping beside him, and finally blissful, contemplative silence.

_ This was how their world turned.  _

“Hey.” Chris smiles brokenly at the sound of his friends voice, pulling his arm underneath his head and opening a single eye to stare at him. 

“Hi.” they both breathe in at the same time, and Chris was content to sit there. 

“Shove over, Cochise.” He asks, voice softly complementing the space around Chris’s ears.

Chris complies, turning over so he was facing the bare, cream colored wall. He feels the shuddering breath Josh takes behind him and it feels like something releases inside of him. 

“I had a panic attack.” Chris speaks softly, but his voice feels intrusive in the air where Josh’s had sounded melodic. 

“I know.” Josh hesitates, pulling his hand up to rest behind Chris’s head, gripping the sheets beneath. 

“Is it obvious?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“How so?” Chris’s voice barely escapes into the space, weak and yearning. 

“Your phone’s on your desk.” Josh takes another breath, “I’m sorry.”

Chris turns over, sitting up as he does and stares into his eyes. 

“How can you be sorry? I’m not even sorry.”

“That night? It was- I hardly felt guilty until I saw you, for the first time after- All of you, together in one room again, not dead.” 

“Well I can imagine it would be hard to feel guilty when your friends are the reason that-”

“Yes but I almost got you killed. I almost got you and Sam and  _ Ashley.  _ Why don’t you hate me?”

“ _ What?”  _

“Why don’t you hate me?” Josh’s voice is small again but it's different this time- frightened and feeble, “you should have every reason to hate me with all the pain I’ve caused you.”

“Is this about my conversation with Sam?”

“No…  _ Yes,” _ he swallows and in the quiet of the room it's audible to Chris and only succeeds to make him nervous. “It’s about what we do, how we act, what we’ve been-”

“I’ve been doing the best I can.”

“You’ve been doing it alone, how can you expect-”

“I’ve been  _ surviving,  _ Josh.” 

“But you haven’t been  _ living.  _ Isn’t that what matters?  _ Doesn’t that matter to you?”  _  They both turn to each other at the same time, sitting up beside each other. Josh reaches to turn on the light. 

“Don’t you understand, Josh? I can’t worry about myself unless I’m alone. But I can’t leave you either, can I? You own me and I own you. That’s how it works, that's why we can’t stop whatever  _ this  _ is.”

“So you isolate yourself.”

“Yes, and it’s been a pretty damn good use of my time too.” Chris turns so he’s laying down again, facing away from him.  “I can’t talk about it. I can’t pretend-”

“Then don’t. Just… be my… friend, okay? Just like old times, right?”

“Yeah… Just like old times.”

Josh lets the conversation drop, content to lay back down, and stare at the rise and fall of his side. He lets an hour pass like this, hand rested gently on the junction between his neck and shoulder, before he moves to get up and leave. 

He grabs his coat from where it was set on the couch. He considers just leaving but decides to step back into the room for one more moment. “We’re going to have to talk about it sometime.” He pauses another moment before turning to go, barely hearing the responding, “I know” before he was headed out the door to sneak back to his room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet babes. <3 
> 
> There's no schedule to this but I'm planning this as I go so what do you expect?  
> If you wouldn't mind some constructive criticism in the comments if you have a couple seconds of time, that would be amazing.
> 
> Hell if you want to add ideas to my (sadly short) list for this or other things thats awesome too!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Chris wakes up the next morning with a bad case of regret. He can't pinpoint at what exact moment he would go back to- but he would have done it in a heartbeat if asked to.    
  
He fancied he could go all the way back; before yesterday, before the cabin, even before Chris and Josh became  _ Chris and Josh.  _ When Josh was just some cool kid and Chris was some gadget nerd who didn't really talk much unless it had something to do with technology or political debates. 

 

Sometimes he likes to think about how different it would have been.

 

But then again Josh might've just travelled down the same awful path with a different bunch of helpless teenagers. And Chris didn't like to think of how those teenagers probably wouldn't have tried to go back for Josh at all. Of how Josh would have been stuck on that fucking mountain if Chris himself hadn't decided that finding Josh was what he was meant to do with what was left of his damaged existence. 

 

And regardless of his wishes that he could gather up the pieces of his friend and fix them before… it did happen and there wasn't anything he could do to change it.. The nerd and the cool kid became friends, watched a few movies, went to parties, went on vacation, watched movies  _ on  _ vacation, played video games, hijacked the theater to watch movies, went on road trips with friends (watched movies while doing that too), and generally always lived life like they believed it was to be lived. And even after the cabin not much has really changed between them except-

-they didn't watch movies together anymore. 

  
  


The lack of movie watching wasn't something Chris had been too focused on when Josh had first returned. 

They all hadn't been too worried about anything really and Chris found this to be true of all of them for a long time.

Most had paranoia. Some saw things lurking in the shadows. Some pretended they didn't see or feel anything. And the rest of them, specifically Chris and Josh, stopped watching the movies. 

 

The end of the movies, as it were, wasn't really a definitive characteristic of their relationship, but Chris felt like it was. There were only so many hours a person could sit in the “circle of self-loathing.” Most everyone knows you're supposed to hide the bad parts of yourself. 

 

But Josh didn't do that anymore.

 

And perhaps that was the most telling sign of all that something had been wrong before. 

 

It was thoughts like these that made sitting across from his friend extremely difficult. Chris didn't want to be a liar, but he couldn't tell the truth either. Because what if his truth was something Josh didn't see? Or more pressingly- what if he did? 

What if all this time Chris has spent mending broken bonds was wasted. What if admitting blame, or admitting to feeling betrayed, admitting to feeling  _ different-  _ meant that Chris and Josh had made a mistake. 

So Chris didn't speak out and he barely made the move to emote anything other than pleasure towards what Josh wanted. 

And even now, an uncharacteristically warm day for the end of fall, Chris didn't say a word out of line. The two friends lay side by side next to the pool. They aren't swimming but their legs dangle on, toes dipping just near the cold water. Days like these don't happen often;  where the weather doesn't seem to care about the turmoil of heart and mind. It's been a year and the trees have moved on. Something bad is bound to happen.

 

Similarly, Chris and Josh have moved on from the night before. Though Chris could only really speak for himself- Josh wasn't asking about it so he felt safe to assume he'd drop the matter altogether.  Josh turns though, suddenly looking curious, and Chris wonders whether his friend ever really dropped anything. His mouth opens, a slight part of lips, before closing once more and turning back to the sky. Like the indirect glare of the sun would burn less than whatever he found hidden in Chis’ face. Only when another series of endless moments had passed did he ask the question. 

 

“Are you ok?” Josh lets his head fall to look at his friend again. Chris felt like his skull was collapsing, like a million loose thoughts had slipped from his orifices and disintegrated into the lukewarm air. It was not as if this question hadn’t been offered before and after every little occurrence in his, Josh’s,  _ and  _ his friend’s lives. But this time it felt different, minisculely different- as if a word could change its meaning because it wanted to. 

 

“No.” Chris lets out a long breath, “but if it makes you feel better- I’m definitely seeing improvement.” Another lie. Chris  _ was _ a liar, and though he could deny it, he felt like this was a truth that could not be hidden too far underneath his many layers. 

 

“Are you, now?” Chris almost doesn’t like the way his friend looks at him in that moment, or the way his laugh feels almost biting- like he doesn't  quite believe that the words he hears are words that contain any measure of truth. (Chris supposes they might not- but he does not suppose that this is something that Josh should know.) 

 

“What am I supposed to say.” He knows this isn’t a question, but he feels like saying it out loud might imply that it was important, might imply that he needed help without actually requesting it. It felt like a mistake. 

 

“You don’t have to say anything.”

 

“That’s not the best way to progress.”

“I know, but I’ve always found that pushing something that isn’t meant to be pushed yields no results.” Josh turns over so that he’s laying on his shoulder facing Chris, a sly smile that had always been a little bit to wide plastered on his face. 

 

“Oh, so philosophical, you should join my philosophy class.” Josh laughs, but shakes his head.

 

“Why, so we can mess around and not get anything done together?” Chris smacks his shoulder, managing to rock him over onto his back again.

 

“That’s implying that I never get anything done. I’m wounded.” Which, Chris thought, wasn’t too terribly far from the truth. 

 

“I’m sure you would, I was just implying that- hey, where are you going?” Chris stood by the sliding glass doors, eyes squinted, and lip poking out from between his lips in a face that could only ever be described as arrogant and teasing. He almost turns to head inside, but reconsiders and turns back around. “I’m gonna raid your fridge.”

 

“My mother will… probably be really pleased that we’re eating.”

 

“ _ We?”  _ Chris looks taken aback, “Who said anything about we?  _ I  _ will raid your fridge. And  _ I  _ will find the hidden freezer that holds the ice cream.” Josh is up in a second, but chooses to stroll casually to the door, leaning against the frame to watch his friend- much in the same way he had the night before. Chris is still babbling, but it isn’t from any measurable nervousness, and Josh liked to believe it was his way of filling the silence so that it didn’t feel so pressured. 

 

“Who even makes a fridge with  _ hidden  _ freezers? Like, I get the whole multiple freezer thing but hiding them seems kind of besides the point. Like what if you buy a fridge and you don’t find it?” Josh laughs and Chris stops talking for a moment to enjoy the sudden burst of warmth he feels for his friend. He gathers all the necessary supplies and can’t help but notice the two bowls he’d unconsciously grabbed sitting side by side on the table.

 

Josh notices this too, and gets right to taking Chris’ place setting things up. He hesitates for a moment and walks into the living room, stopping to stand right in front of the movies. His hands glance over a few shelves and it’s almost as if he stops completely, changing his mind, before his hands close over some random title and moves to place it on the tv stand. 

 

Chris watches this and wonders if everything was going to turn out okay after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *snorts* I thought through my intent for this fic for like five minutes  
> You're welcome.
> 
> I'll try to keep updating as long as im interested. My inspiration cycles are intense.

Chris stood next to his designated spot in his college classroom with a hand braced on his chair, posed to sit down but not quite making it all the way. He'd only left for a moment. One singular moment and all of his items had been cascaded onto the ground. As if the table had been wiped clean.

 

He shouldn't have been bothered by the odd note scrawled on his belongings though as a general rule you weren't supposed to touch anyone else's things- didn't mean it never happened.

 

And just as he bent to pick up his belongings a set of hands moved to gather his things for him.

 

Chris didn't even bother looking up to see who it was before trying to dismiss them.

 

“Thanks. I-I’ve got it.” He wasn't terribly surprised that the hands didn't stop, but he did wonder whether the person had heard him. When the hands continued to pick up his belongings and place them awkwardly in his arms- his suspicions were confirmed.

 

“People are terrible these days.” Chris let out an involuntary laugh before shuffling his things into a neat stack and, finally, looking up to greet his helper. “-though with student loans these days I'm not terribly surprised.”

 

“Oh, I wouldn't really be the expert on that…” Looking up, and Chris really had to stretch, he met the dark eyes of an unreasonably tall stranger. One who seemed immensely fascinated with the person in front of him. Chris could only assume this was because one did not meet many people without loans nowadays, but in a way, he also couldn't be sure what the mystery man found terribly interesting about him.

 

“Oh, really?” Chris felt a smug smile threatening to break out on his face. Josh may not believe it but Chris knew a thing or two about people. Specifically, how to read someone to know what their intent was. It was a new trick he’d picked up after their awful night on the mountain, and if it meant Chris was less likely to have panic attacks- then he didn’t think it was a warning sign that something was wrong with him. (Though he could admit the panic attacks said something entirely different on the matter.)

 

The tall stranger seemed to melt into a different persona, his light brown hair- on the longer side- falling down just above his eyes. Chris didn't like to admit he had a type- because his generally pansexual orientation guaranteed that he didn't have to think about it too much, and Josh didn't really believe he did at all.

However, he couldn't ignore the intrigue he felt when he looked up at the person standing in front of him. Mutual intrigue, he supposed, would likely destroy the both of them.

“What’s your name?” Hearing his own voice startles him, and maybe even more startling was the small inflection that could be heard if one only managed to focus just so.

 

He smiles, and he can see his hand working the notebook at his side up and down, moving his fingertips along the spiral. He coughs suddenly as if finally registering Chris’ question before offering his hand, “Uh. Lucas. But you can call me Luke.”

 

Chris smiles one of those breathy smiles that he’d only seen on the faces of women and men who were trying really hard to get someone’s attention. He couldn’t say why, but he doesn’t let it fall from his face. He lets his hand slip into Luke’s. “Hello, Luke; My name is Chris.”

 

“Chris.” He parrots back, continuing to stare in wonderment at him for what seems like forever before someone visibly taps on Luke’s shoulder. What felt like hours had only managed to transpire over a series of minutes. As the next class walked in, Chris hurried to gather the rest of his things, looking up occasionally to find Luke still standing there.

 

“Well, Luke. I thank you for your kindness.” Chris reaches out to shake his hand again but feels uneasy instead of intrigued when Luke grips it back. He felt cornered all of a sudden, too many eyes trained on them. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” Luke smiled a secret smile but didn’t say anything as they both separated on the sidewalk outside the building.

 

Chris couldn’t help but notice not one word had been said about his peculiar lack of student loans. A pleasant chill ran down his spine at the thought.

 

____________________________________________________________

 

Josh and Chris sat together again, which wasn’t surprising as they tended to do this every day. Chris still felt the lingering taste of anxiety in his mouth from his encounter earlier. Even more surprising was that he hadn’t mentioned it to his best friend once in the hour they had lay spread out on the couch in his room. For some reason the thought of revealing this information sent rapid-fire sparks of interest to his brain, lighting up the neurons like the seedy strip mall did at night from his apartment window.

 

The sun had started setting a few minutes before, when Josh reaches over to take Chris’ hand in a way that manages to stabilize those neurons in their lit up state. Josh seems out of it, his eyes shifting as Chris’ eyes seemingly bore into him. His eyes return to that place they seem to inhabit more and more often and Chris wonders if the words he wants to say will be said. He doesn’t have too high a hope for it, though.

 

“Need a ride home? Or are you staying?” Josh doesn’t really give him any choice in the matter- not that it bothers him much. They all tended to stick together now. 

 

“Yeah, you should drive me back,” Chris sighed, flexing his hand where it rested in Josh’s upturned palm, “I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow since I don’t have any classes.” 

“Need any help?” Chris looks over at his friend in suspicion before turning back to stare at the many posters his eyes had taken to resting on ever since he had first ventured into the eldest Washington’s room. 

 

“Laundry.” 

 

“You could just do it here.”

 

“I could also stab my own eyes out with my fingers and make you do everything for me for the rest of my life.”

 

“Brutal.”

 

“I learned from the best.”  

 

“I’d do it, you know?” 

 

“Do what?” Chris’ voice laughs silently through his words, more confused than amused. Josh looks serious where Chris looks conflicted, both staring at Chris’ hand as it was cradled by Josh’s. 

 

“Take care of you forever and ever.”

 

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to drive me home.” Chris tries to sound indignant, but only manages to sound small and perplexed.  

 

“Come on Cochise. Time to go.” 

 

They ride in the car together uneventfully. They don’t sing to each other. Chris didn’t believe what Josh had said was a confession- he believed it was a mutual truth. And it would destroy them both.


End file.
